


It Starts With a Call

by DrarrySinful



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Enemy to friend, Escort, Fake Dating, M/M, Slash, drarry squad, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrarrySinful/pseuds/DrarrySinful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry needs a date for a huge event, he calls on an escort service he saw in the paper. Describing his perfect date lands him with... Draco Malfoy??? What is he going to do now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Harry!"

Harry Potter heard the voice of one Hermione Granger shout from in his living room and sighed, knowing what was coming. He was trying to decide whether he should pretend not to be home, though he had become a bit of a shut-in after the war, so there was really no getting out of what was about to come. He sighed and trudged into the living room to find Hermione's head floating in his fireplace and he crossed his arms loosely in front of him.

"Hey 'Mione." Harry tried casually.

"Harry," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing a bit, "You haven't RSVP'd to my charity ball this evening. You are coming right?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, messing up his already impossible hair, and looked away from her. He wanted to be there for her, he really did, but he just hated everyone looking at him and trying to talk to him. But, wherever _Harry Potter_ went, _Harry Potter_ was the center of attention. Not to mention every single woman within a 20km radius would throw themselves at him and every elderly witch he spoke to tried to fix him up with their daughters.

"Hermione... I really want to go... I do... I just have a lot going on right now... With the renovation... You know..." He looked away from her, but he could feel the burn of her glare on his skin. He wasn't fully lying to her, not really. Even though Grimmauld Place looked like a proper home now, with it's homey looking wallpapers and warm paint as well as comfortable and well worn furniture, Harry had been systematically going through and re-renovating every room over and over again. It just felt like something was missing.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione snapped, and he looked back at her, "You have 'just had a lot going on' with this 'renovation' for three years now! Not only do we never see you unless we come to visit you here, but think about how my charity will look if my best friend doesn't show up to the ball! It will look like it's not worth endorsing! Having Harry Potter at the event will make it look more like my cause matters!"

Harry sat on his big old squishy couch directly in front of the fireplace, sinking immediately into the soft fabric, and ran his fingers through the front of his hair in exasperation. Maybe he was becoming more of a recluse than he thought he was; _had it really been three years?_

"I don't have a date," he tried one more time, "and I don't like people throwing themselves and their daughters at me."

Hermione sighed, but her glare didn't abate, "Harry... Find someone to bring then. No one has seen you in ages, you could say that you were dating any person you brought with you and no one could say otherwise. It doesn't even have to be real." Her eyes narrowed again, "You are coming to the ball tonight, so start getting ready. So help me if you aren't there!" With those words Hermione ended the firecall and her face disappeared from the flames.

_Well bollucks._

Harry got up from his couch and went to trudge upstairs to search out his dress robes, but stopped as his eyes fell upon the _Daily Prophet_ that was sitting next to the chair in the corner whose armrests had been worn in from too much use. He remembered seeing an ad in the paper earlier that might help him out for this evening. He snatched up the paper and leaned against the back of his chair as he flicked through the pages to try and find the right ad.

Finally he found it; an ad for a high class escort service. An ad that he had just the day before scoffed at without reading but was now desperately looking through to see if it would work for tonight's event. The escort service was specifically for high class events. He could hire a witch or wizard to accompany him to any high class event to play the role of his date, they were guarantied to preform well in high society and not embarrass their host. The service was also well know for their discretion after the service is performed, according to the published reviews.

Harry chewed thoughtfully on his lip as he scanned over the name of the Escort Service and the "order form" he was meant to fill out in the letter, as well as the _cost may vary due to time spent, location of event, and notoriety of the witch/wizard requesting the service_ disclaimer at the end of the ad. This would probably be expensive, but this was the best way for him to find a date on such short notice, or at least to find a date that he wouldn't have to see again afterward. Deciding to just go for it, Harry brought the paper with him into his study and grabbed a scroll and a quill, scratching out the specifics of his "order."

_Host Details  
Name:_

He paused just before he wrote his name down. Not that he was ashamed of hiring the escort, or doubted their discretion, as whomever his escort wound up being would know it was him as soon as they saw him. It was just that he didn't want the escorts to know it was him before hand and end up with someone who would spend their whole time throwing themselves at him anyways.

 _Name:Vernon, Dudley_  
_Age: 21_  
_Address: 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London_  
_Type of Event: Charity Ball_  
_Day of Event: Today_  
_Time of Event: 8pm_  
_Any Concerns About the Event: I can't dance, I need a good dancer_

_ Escort Details _  
_Age Range: 20-25_  
_Height Preference: Tall_  
_Body Type:_

Harry paused again here too; _what did he like?_ Not that it really mattered too much as he wasn't planning on dating or sleeping with this person, in fact the ad made it very clear that these escorts did not perform... _bedroom activities_ , under any circumstances. Still, he wanted someone that anyone who knew him and might know his tastes wouldn't question. As he was trying to think about what he liked, all that kept popping into his head was playing quidditch. That's right, both Cho and Ginny had been a part of a quidditch team back at Hogwarts. That was probably the body type he was attracted to.

_Body Type: Lanky, but athletic, like a quidditch player  
Hair Color:_

Just before he wrote down the color red, thinking of his failed relationship with Ginny, a flash of white blond hair flew across his vision. He frowned a little, wondering what had made him think of Fleur, but he wrote down that color anyways.

_Hair Color: Blonde  
Gender:_

Harry started to write female automatically, but stopped just as the quill touched the page. If he was so tired of women throwing themselves at him, what would be the best way to combat that? Convince the rest of the wizarding world that he was gay.

_Gender: Male  
Blood Status: I don't care_

At the last one, Harry rolled his eyes as he scratched out his answer. _Did people really still care about blood status after all that went on in the war?_ Though he supposed pure bloods were probably trained since birth to function in high society, but Harry barely knew how to do that, so he figured it would be fine if the wizard they sent for him was trained as an adult. Either way, Harry shook his head as he rolled up the parchment and went to find his owl in the owl room.

It had been really difficult at first to replace Hedwig, but Harry couldn't deny the usefulness of an owl. Really, with how much time he spent alone in his home, he could use the companionship.

When he went to purchase his new owl, he had avoided even looking at Snowy Owls, and wound up going home with an Elf Owl. He had immediately fallen in love with how tiny and energetic the owl was, and he had a huge personality.

At first he was concerned that the owl was too small to carry anything more than a letter, as he was small enough to fit in Harry's pocket, but the Emporium owner has assured him that all owls meant to carry parcels were enhanced with magic so they could carry any sized package. So he had bought him, taken him home, and remodeled one of his guest bedrooms into a room for him. Well, him and any visiting owls from his friends.

The owl room was actually one of his favorite rooms in the house, and one of the only rooms that hardly ever got remodeled. In one half of the room, there was an area specifically for his owl, with a nice stand, food, water, and an open bird cage that the tiny owl had turned into a nest of socks he had stolen from around the house. The other half of the room was just more stands with food and water that Harry changed out periodically for the owls that brought him mail. His favorite accomplishment in the room was a magical barrier cast over an open window that only allowed owls and the packages they carried through. It even kept out cold, heat, and weather.

"Dobby!" Harry called as he opened the door, and was immediately attacked by a flurry of feathers as Dobby landed on his shoulder and then started jumping from his shoulder to his head and back to his shoulder and all around him, twittering happily. "Okay, okay!" Harry laughed, "Seriously, you are just like your namesake, I was just in here an hour ago! I'm gonna have to start leaving your door open more often when you come home so you stop attacking me." Harry caught the little owl and held up his letter, Dobby stuck his tiny little leg out and Harry secured the roll of parchment to it and Dobby took off, darting out the open window.

Now he just had to hope that Dobby got there in time and it wasn't too late of notice for tonight. Harry huffed and walked out of Dobby's room, this time leaving the door open so that the little owl could come and find him when he got home with the response. Harry ran his fingers through his hair again, then huffed when he realized that now he was going to have to go and find his dress robes, and then figure out something to do with his hair to make it at least part of the way decent.

Harry made his way to his own bedroom and frowned a little when he walked in, he still had that 'missing something' vibe in this room, and would probably remodel this room next. Shaking that thought out of his head, it wasn't important right now, he walked over to his tall and intricately carved redwood wardrobe and threw it open, then dug to the back of all of his clothes to find the stuff he never wore, his dress robes included.

When he pulled out his nice black, tailored to fit dress robes that Hermione had made him get for hers and Ron's wedding, he noticed that they were covered in dust and wrinkles. It really had been a long time since he had an occasion to wear them, but he laid them out on the bed and pulled out his wand, waving it at the garment and blasting away the dust. He waved his wand again and most, but not all of the wrinkles went out of the robes, he had never been able to perfect that particular household charm. He turned, made his way into the loo, and set himself to the task of taking a shower, shaving, and trying to save his hair from its usual disaster.

Three hours has passed by the time he emerged, now washed and cleanly shaven with a nice aftershave, but sighing in frustration as the only change in his hair was that it was now damp. He ran his fingers through his hair to flatten it down and instead it flattened mostly down and stuck up at odd angles between where his fingers were. Finally, while he was contemplating trying a new spell to tame his hair, Dobby flew into his room and perched on his head.

"Dobby..." Harry sighed affectionately as the little bird turned his hair back into a comfortable nest before dropping the scroll he was carrying into Harry's hand. He unrolled it to look it over, holding his breath that they would have someone available at such short notice.

_Dear Mr. Vernon,_

_We are pleased to announce that we will be able to provide the perfect escort for your needs this morning, however a fee must be added due to the lateness of the request, we hope you understand._

_Your escort will arrive at the designated place of residence at precisely 7pm to go over the details of the evening as well as the cost of service._

_Guaranteeing the wellness of the evening,  
Side-Along Escort_

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and tossed the scroll off to the side on his bed and grabbed his wand to cast a tempus charm, and promptly swore when he realized that it was already 6:45 and his date would arrive in 15 minutes!

He shooed Dobby off of his head, who hooted at him and flew up to the top of his wardrobe, and hurriedly jumped into the pants of his dress robes, buttoning them up and trying to manually smooth down some of the wrinkles before throwing on his shirt and tucking it into his pants, flying up the buttons, and then tossing on his dress robes and running downstairs. He skidded to a halt in front of the door just as he heard a very polite sounding knock on his front door.

Harry exhaled and composed himself, wanting to seem more calm and collected when he introduced himself to his date. He ran his fingers through his hair one more time and then pulled open the door.

He saw white blond hair and dark green, extremely expensive looking dress robes, and then his heart stopped.

"I'm looking for Mr. Vernon, Dudley?" Came the voice of none other than Draco Malfoy, who was looking down at an unraveled scroll.His body was relaxed but his posture was all formal. Draco then looked up and upon seeing Harry, his whole body went rigid, he turned an ashen shade of grey, flashing between recognition, confusion, and fury before composing himself and replacing the Infamous Malfoy Mask. Before he spoke, his body seemed to relax itself back into it's formal posture, but with none of the original ease it once held.

"Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

When Malfoy said his name, Harry snapped out of his stupor, “Malfoy…?”

The name spilled out of his mouth in a way that felt so familiar, it was almost eerie. He didn't say it with any joy, but when he said it, it felt like a puzzle piece had just slotted back into a hole in his life. While he had never cared for Malfoy, the other male had been a really big part of his life for a long time, and had disappeared right around the same time Harry himself had.

Old habits die hard, and for the first month after the trial where Harry had testified for Mrs. Malfoy and Malfoy, he had kept tabs on the Malfoy family. That was the only reason he had gotten a subscription to the Daily Prophet in the first place. The first week or so had been a debate over whether the two Malfoy's should have joined Lucius in Azkaban and whether they had coerced Harry into testifying for them, or whether they really had deserved their freedom. The next couple of weeks had been spent shaming the Malfoy's and bringing to light all that Lucius and Malfoy had done during the war.

Finally the papers got over it, and they went to reporting all the donations that the Malfoy's were making to contribute to the rebuild after the war.

Then the obituary for Narcissa Malfoy published, and Malfoy dropped off the map.

No more word from the paper, and when Harry discretely asked Hermione about it, she hadn't heard anything either.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Malfoy started, drawing out the word as if he was speaking to a small child, “I was hired by a Mr. Vernon, but judging by your…” Malfoy sneered a little and looked Harry over, “attire, that would be you.” He waited a long moment for that to sink in before giving a great sweeping flourish of a bow, though his expression never changed, “Draco Malfoy, at your service.”

“But…” Harry stammered, “No… I… Why would they send _you_?!” He winced when he realized that he had practically squeaked.

The slender curve of Malfoy’s eyebrow raised and he unraveled the scroll again, clearing his throat before speaking in that drawl that felt so familiar, “Twenty to twenty-five, tall, athletic like a Quidditch player, blond, male, good dancer.” Malfoy rolled up the scroll and placed it neatly inside the neatly pressed jade dress robes. As Harry looked him over he saw the trim that was spun gold as well as gorgeous embroidered dragons in the same spun gold twisting around the bottom of the robes. Harry could hardly bring himself to look away until he heard Malfoy speak again, “Anything you want to tell me, Potter?”

Harry’s fingers clenched and his eyes narrowed, but he couldn't deny that, at least the way Malfoy had said it, that description was basically _Draco Malfoy_. But that didn't mean anything! He had only last minute changed the gender to male, so he couldn't have been describing Malfoy. _Right?_

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, and Malfoy winced when he did, “I can't… This… What am I going to do…?”

“You could start by letting me in,” Malfoy said smoothly, sarcasm lacing his voice, “Or is it Gryffindor custom to make their dates wait outside while they mumble nonsense.”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped, slipping back into the ease of provoking and being provoked by Malfoy.

“Well then, if you don't need me, I'll be off,” Malfoy snapped right back, turning on his heel and starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Harry yelled, panic gripping him as he realized that Malfoy would probably actually leave, and that he would be stuck going to the ball alone, “No! I need you!”

Horror-struck, Harry clasped a hand over his mouth when he realized what he had just shouted, but dropped his hand and mostly managed to compose himself before Malfoy turned again and started walking back.

“Now that we have that established,” Malfoy said haughtily, clearly enjoying this, “are you going to let me in?”

Harry nodded stiffly and stepped aside, allowing Malfoy to step fluidly inside his home. The look on Malfoy’s face was not impressed as he looked around the room at the homey and used décor, and Harry felt himself flush with indignation before forcing it back down.

They were adults now, he needed Malfoy, he could do this.

After looking over the living room furniture, Malfoy gracefully perched on the arm of Harry’s chair, making himself comfortable. Thanks to Malfoy sitting in his chair, Harry was left with the couch which he sank into. Suddenly, the idea to buy a big comfy couch seemed ludicrous because there was no way Harry could sit gracefully while he sat on it. At least, he couldn't sit nearly as gracefully as Malfoy was. Maybe this room needed changing too. Electing to stand, as he suddenly could not get comfortable on his couch, Harry watched Malfoy pull another scroll out of his robes and unravel it.

“Alright, Potter, this is the contract for the evening,” Malfoy said importantly, then read directly off of the scroll, all business now, “I will escort you to tonight’s event, in what way do you need me to represent myself this evening _Mr. Vernon_?”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, he couldn't believe what he was about to say to _Draco Malfoy_. “I need you…” he took a deep breath before blurting out the rest, “to be my boyfriend!”

The scroll in Malfoy’s hand tore just a little as he suddenly stiffened, looking at Harry with a mixture of fury and terror, “Potter, are you _insane_?”

Harry felt his face heat up at Malfoy’s reaction, “Well you weren't exactly my first choice either! But I need a date that will pretend to be my boyfriend and now it’s too late to find anyone else!”

Malfoy’s lips thinned into and harsh line, reminding Harry of an angry Professor McGonnagal, before responding, “I understand you needing a date, but your _boyfriend_? Really, Potter? Why would you need a boyfriend? And have you thought about how that would look to all your little friends? Not to mention the rest of the Wizarding World? You, _Harry Potter_ dating ex-death eater and school rival, _Draco Malfoy_!”

By this point in his rant, Malfoy had stood up, and Harry got a good look at him. He had gotten thinner, not in a sickly kind of way, but in a lean muscle kind of way. His very expensive looking and well fitting robes clung nicely to his body and then swept out behind him in a kind of elegance that Harry vaguely thought befitted a Malfoy. His hair wasn't full of that old grease he used to use to slick it back when he was a kid, but had instead been pulled back in a very dignified looking ponytail. Harry couldn't tell how long his hair was, but it didn't look to be too far past his shoulders.

This was very different to how Harry felt he looked. He was taller than Malfoy, but was still very lanky. Even when he bought clothes that were supposed to fit him, he still felt like they looked baggy on him. His hair was a little long again, like it had been when he was fourteen. He felt that it looked more like a controlled mess when it was a little bit longer,as opposed to when it was shorter and sticking up all over the place. Also, even though he had opportunities to replace them for something more stylish, he still had his familiar round glasses.

“Potter!”

Malfoy’s snapping at him pulled Harry out of his thoughts again, “Huh?”

“Were you even listening to me? If we’re going to do this you have to agree.” Malfoy had his arms crossed and even though Harry was just a bit taller, he felt like Malfoy was looking down on him.

Harry bristled at that look but forced it down again. He just had to get through tonight, then they could ‘break up’ later. “Okay, fine Malfoy. What am I agreeing to?” He had only just caught himself and remembered to ask Malfoy what he was agreeing to, the fact that Malfoy seemed to be agreeing to help him throwing him off. Honestly, he had expected to need to do a lot more begging.

Malfoy clicked his tongue disapprovingly and rubbed his temples, “Honestly, Potter. You need to agree to do everything I tell you, or this will _not_ work.”

This time it was time for Harry’s lips to do a McGonnagal impression, and he took a very deep breath before giving a tense nod, “Alright, Malfoy. I agree.”

Malfoy gave a curt nod in response and looked Harry up and down, “Good, now you need to get ready.”

Harry frowned, sending a confused look in Malfoy’s direction, “Malfoy, I got ready before you got here.” Then he gestured wildly to his dress robes as if to say; _see, you prat._

At that, Malfoy blanched, “You… You are _joking_ , right?” But when Harry just looked more confused, Malfoy gave a long suffered sigh, “You’re not joking, are you?”

“What? I look fine! I washed my hair and shaved and put on my dress robes!” Harry protested, listing off the things that he did on his fingers as he said them.

“Fine?” Malfoy’s brow arched so high Harry could swear it was about to touch his hairline, “Potter. Your dress robes are full of wrinkles,” Malfoy started listing the things he was saying off on his fingers, mimicking Harry in a facetious way, “Your buttons are all crooked. You obviously didn't put on aftershave. And your hair looks like a bird was nesting in it. Besides that, did you brush your teeth? If you are going to be within breathing distance of me all night, I will not have your breath smelling like a Neanderthal.” Malfoy wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Fine, you say? Fine is not good enough to be on the arm of a Malfoy.”

Harry opened his mouth in shock and pulled out his wand, Malfoy eyed it warily but all Harry did was cast a tempus charm again, “Malfoy! The ball starts in twenty minutes! We don't have time for all that! I look fine, let’s go!”

Malfoy then gave a look like Harry had just said the single most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, “Merlin, Potter! It’s called _fashionably_ late for a reason!”

_It's just one night. It's just one night. It's just one night. I can do this_.

Harry figured if he kept repeating this to himself, he could get through tonight without cracking Malfoy in the jaw. “Fine. What do I need to do.”

“Nothing, you are clearly awful at getting yourself ready. Just hold still.” Malfoy snipped at him, his posture changing from agitated to all business as he took out his wand. Harry only just managed not to flinch away, and hold down his temper.

_Just one night_.

Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry and cast a non-verbal spell, his face all concentration. Harry felt an odd warming sensation all over his body and shuddered, his eyes screwing shut until the sensation went away. When he looked down, all the wrinkles from his dress robes were gone and it looked like it had been nicely pressed just before he had put them on. Then Malfoy reached out and started undoing the buttons on Harry’s shirt.

“I can do that!” Harry quipped, reaching out to wrestle the buttons away from Malfoy’s long fingers, only to have them batted away.

“Obviously you can't, or I wouldn't be doing this in the first place,” Malfoy snapped back as he finished undoing Harry’s buttons, “I said, hold still and let me work.” Harry stood awkwardly still, not even wanting to breathe, lest Malfoy’s hand come in contact with his bare skin, as Malfoy deftly redid the buttons and then shoved his hands down Harry’s pants.

“What the hell Malfoy!” Harry knew he yelped this time as he jumped back, but he didn't care, _Malfoy’s hands had just been down his pants!_

Malfoy, starting to look like he was dealing with a very irritating child, rubbed his temples again, “Honestly… I was just tucking in your shirt, you bloody git. Go sit on that… Chair over there so I can fix your hair.”

_Just one night. Just one night._

Harry, looking down again to see his now immaculate shirt safely tucked in to his pants, composed himself and made himself go sit in the chair that Malfoy had gestured at. It was another nice, comfortable, and well worn chair, but this one didn't have as high of a back to it, so Malfoy could stand behind the chair and do who knows what with Harry’s hair.

“Merlin Potter, it really does look like a bird was nesting in your hair! You were actually planning to leave the house like this?” Malfoy scoffed as he raked a conjured comb through Harry’s hair, ripping out knots as he went.

Mentally slapping himself in the face for not noticing Dobby messing up his hair, Harry sighed, “My owl likes to do that. I must have forgotten.”

“Hn.” Malfoy simply scoffed, removing Harry’s hair from the comb and then turning it back into the tea cozy he had snatched off of Harry’s coffee table. He then pointed his wand at his palm and something that looked like a thin hair gel shot out onto his hand.

“You’re not going to slick my hair back like you did in first year, are you?” Harry asked, mildly terrified. That would not be a good look on him.

Malfoy scoffed again and started running his fingers through Harry’s hair, distributing the gel all through his thick locks, “Please. I would need much stronger gel to make _your_ hair lay down.”

Malfoy spent about fifteen more minutes raking his fingers through Harry’s hair, pausing every couple minutes to contemplate his work before starting up again. Harry, on the other hand, spent the whole time assuring himself that the only reason he was so calm and enjoying the feeling was because someone messing with his hair always relaxed him. Even if that someone was Draco Malfoy.

“Alright Potter, this is as good as you’re going to get,” Malfoy finally said, and Harry all but launched himself out of the chair and into the downstairs loo to check his hair.

It actually looked good. _Really good._ Harry looked at himself in the mirror with a baffled expression on his face. His hair was still wild, but now it looked to be in a controlled mess, each wave in his hair precisely styled to rest in a certain way over the next in a way that reminded Harry of rolling waves in the ocean.

Malfoy showed up in the mirror behind him, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face, “Well?”

Harry startled a little before composing himself. “It looks fine,” he said, receiving an eye roll from Malfoy, then he cast another tempus charm and groaned, “Great, we’re ten minutes late now. Hermione’s going to think I'm not coming.”

“I'm sure Granger will be fine. We've still got twenty minutes before it goes from fashionably late to just rude.” Malfoy said calmly, casting a tempus of his own.

“Weasley,” Harry corrected automatically.

“She married that cretin?” Malfoy sniggered, “Doesn't surprise me really.”

_Just one night. Just one night._

“Are we going or not?” Harry couldn't keep the slight snappy tone out of his voice.

“Yes, yes.” Malfoy said dismissively, “Just one more thing.”

Harry groaned inwardly, “What now, Malfoy?”

“Gryffindor’s are naturally terrible liars, and you, Potter, are the worst of them all,” Malfoy said, raising a hand to stop Harry’s protest before it came, “Therefor, as part of our ‘do everything I say’ contract, I will answer any and all questions about our… _relationship_. If our answers do not match, no one will believe you, so just agree with everything and anything I say, and if someone asks you directly, refer back to an answer that I have previously. Clear?”

_One night. One night. One night._

“Fine, I can do that.”

“I should hope so. Take my arm.” Malfoy said, taking the stance of a gentleman and extending his arm for Harry.

Reluctantly, but knowing they had to keep up appearances, Harry placed his hand around Malfoy’s arm and they walked together out of Harry’s house and past the apparition wards. They turned on the spot and apparated to the doors leading to the ball, in front of a grand manor that the Ministry had booked for Hermione’s ball.

Malfoy placed a hand on the door and looked at Harry, “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.” Harry said back defiantly, and together they pushed the doors open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jrayoh23 for beta!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. 
> 
> Thanks to for jrayoh23 and Black Star's Wife for being my very first Betas! They really helped me out a lot and I look forward to working with them.


End file.
